Chains
by laproblematique
Summary: Katherine, now human, has been in a mental asylum ever since Damon and Stefan threw her in for the benefit of everyone around her; but suddenly, Damon returns to bail her out, along with an unwelcome guest from whom Katherine fears for her safety. Something I threw together without any planning. Hopefully I'll get a few ideas and continue soon enough. Katherine's POV.


I'm in a white room. Silver handcuffs chain me to a white table. The ringing in my ears is white noise. I don't bother trying to look around, because I know all I'll see is white. The walls are white. The floor is white. Even the clothes I've been forced into are white, save for a few bloodstains. A few red spots line the tiles along the ground as well, ruining the pristine image. I've memorized each crack, each crevice; how couldn't I? It's been like this for years now.

However, this is the first time that the men in white took me from my cell and brought me here. I don't know why they did. I don't care why they did. For all I know, they may have brought me here to kill me. And maybe for the first time in years I'll see a different color. Red. Maybe even black, given how weak and disgusting I am—how deoxygenated my blood is now.

And that's exactly what I see when he steps through the white door positioned in front of me: a tall man with ivory skin and raven _black_ hair. He doesn't smile; instead, his bright blue eyes are on me like I'm his prey, his victim. Ironic, how the tables turn.

"Been a while, Katherine."

I force a pained grin up at him, but end up grimacing as a lock of my greasy hair falls in my face. I recoil in disgust.

He smiles, charming and disarming, and sits in the metal chair opposite from me. "Did you miss me?"

"Damon…" The name that once tasted like honey on my tongue burns like acid, and I pull against the chains on the table, trying to make my hands somehow reach his neck.

He raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing. "Careful. You won't want to snap one of your pretty little wrists. _Human_ wrists."

I keep my eyes fixed on him, baring my teeth in frustration.

"Aren't you going to ask why I'm here?"

"I don't _care_ why you're here, Damon. I'd much rather Stefan come and visit me, if I'm honest." I tilt my head and a chuckle escapes my lips when pain flashes across his features.

Damon leans back in his chair, frowning. "I don't think I believe you."

I roll my eyes. "Leave."

"And leave you here?"

"Isn't that what you want?" I hiss. "For me to suffer after all of the misery I've put you and your _precious_ little Elena through?"

Damon presses his lips. "I don't think I would mind very much, leaving you here, but it wasn't my choice. I came to fetch you."

I toss my head back and laugh now; a full, hearty chortle from the back of my throat. "To _fetch_ me? My, my, the little brother is actually going to act as _my_ knight in shining armor now? Classic. And just what have I done to deserve this?"

" _You_ haven't done anything. You're just needed."

"'Needed'! That's new. Well, I'm not coming with you. I'm happy here, and whatever plan that you've tied me up in can burn in Hell."

"You're miserable, Katherine. You're human and you're _miserable_. You're in a mental asylum, for God's sake."

"It's what I deserve." I spit at him. "I'm not coming."

"I paid for you. You're coming." Damon stands, revealing a key in his hand. He leans down, towering over me. "You belong to us now, whether you like it or not."

"Belong to you? Well, maybe I do like where this is going after all…" I muse as he unlocks the cuffs around my hands.

He laughs humorlessly. "Make this easy for us."

I now catch on to his use of the plural. "'Us'?" I repeat. "Who's 'us'?" No reply. I start to panic. "Damon, tell me who—"

The door in front of me opens, and my breath hitches in my throat when I see who stands at the entrance. His blonde hair is tousled, and the slight scruff lining his jaw makes him look as rugged as ever. His lips quirk upwards on one side in a constant smirk, like a satisfied cat after a meal. What alarms me more is why Damon is suddenly coincided with him _against_ me. He won't hesitate to kill me now; not in my weakened, human state. My palms sweat.

"Hello, love," murmurs Klaus Mikaelson.

My insides twist and I stumble away from the table, knocking over my chair with a sharp snap.

Damon straightens, watching me. I step back up to the white table and reach my hand across, catching the collar of his shirt and pulling him down, readying myself to hit him.

Yet before I know it, Klaus has disappeared and reappeared behind me. He shoves his forearm down against my back, forcing me down onto the table. "I suppose these could serve you well after all." He rattles the shackles.

I hear and feel the cold click of the handcuffs returning to my wrists.

"You'll learn not to fight it in time, love. You belong to us now," he repeats Damon's words.

I scream out now, begging the men in white to come back and take me back to my cell. Leaving here with _him_ is worse than all the nights I've spent here. It's worse than anything I could imagine. At least here, I escaped him...

But Klaus binds a gag in my mouth, his laughter hot in my ear as Damon goes to the door. His laughter only causes tears to come, which I curse myself for; but my tears bring him pleasure, I'm sure.

So I give up. Me, Katherine Pierce. I _give up_ and go limp against his chest, not fighting, not trying. Heaven knows it would be pointless if I tried.

"That's it," he says, "now be a good girl for me and _stay_ quiet."


End file.
